


yesterday's gone, yeah it went away (i've been lost but i'm here today)

by atlasky



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlasky/pseuds/atlasky
Summary: “It’s not about the lack of love,” Steph says, propping her head on one hand. “That’s why it’s taking them so long to heal.”Well, Cass thinks. That just doesn't make sense.





	yesterday's gone, yeah it went away (i've been lost but i'm here today)

The grass underneath her tickles the back of her knees and she can hear the sound of children laughing as they play soccer in one corner of the park. Cass is lying on her back, watching the clouds move slowly, being blown away by the wind. The heat of the summer seeps through her sundress and warms her skin. She’s been there for an hour, but she’s patient. He’s going to show up. He always does.

A shadow looms over her, blocking the sun, and Cass smiles up at her brother.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The shadow moves out of her sight as Jason plops down on the grass next to her. He hasn’t cut his hair for a while, his white streak dangling in front of his right eye. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, his usual brown leather jacket, and combat boots. Considering the weather, Cass thinks he’s being ridiculous.

She lifts her sunglasses to her forehead so he can see her squint. “You’re not sorry.”

Jason grins, quick and sharp as he draws one leg up against his chest and stretches the other. “No, I’m not.”

Cass taps the ground with a couple of fingers and Jason groans.

“I don’t want to get grass and dirt all over my jacket,” he complains.

She taps the ground again and he scowls, but he takes off his jacket, folds it neatly on his lap, and lies down on his back beside her. “Happy now?” he asks, turning his head to search her face.

She looks back at him  - or rather, his shoulder, because keeping himself taller than everyone is his favorite hobby (hence the combat boots) - and hums. He sighs, but it is not with contempt, edging more to fondness than he’d ever admit. It’s okay though, these are the things that Cass knows in her bones. Jason throws an arm in front of his eyes. “Fuck, the sun is killing me.”

Cass pulls down her sunglasses and goes back to watching the clouds.

“How long are you… staying in town?” Cass asks, after a few minutes drifting in the silence between them, peeking up at him. Jason hasn’t been staying much in Gotham since a few months ago, opting to drop by once in a couple of weeks to check up on things before leaving again. His decision coincided with the time when he had locked himself with Bruce in the Manor’s study for an hour and left with red-rimmed eyes and squared jaw, but everyone knows better than to bring the subject up.

(No one saw Bruce for a whole day after that, and the man even skipped patrol and meetings at the central Wayne Office, leaving Tim bombarded with calls by both the GCPD and Wayne board members).

Jason still has his eyes hidden behind his arm but he shrugs. “Before the end of the week, that’s for sure.”

Cass frowns and sits up. “Bruce’s birthday is on Sunday.”

“Oh,” Jason intones flatly. “Really?”

She pokes his side and he grunts, peeking an eye to glare at her. “Ow,” Jason says, even when Cass knows that it didn’t hurt at all.

“There’s a… birthday party,” Cass says. “You have to come.”

“I’m not invited, Cass.”

Cass pokes him again.

“Fuck,” Jason says. “Ok, fine, Alfred may have called me about it.”

“Then you have to go,” Cass insists, triumphant. Alfred’s words are the law, and Jason can’t ever refuse, even when he was at his lowest with Bruce.

Jason lowers his arm and muffles a sigh into the crook of his elbow. A boy with a blue bicycle passes in front of them and Jason waits until he’s out of the hearing range before replying. “Bruce didn't use to have parties,” he says. Cass doesn't move. She has never heard him talk about his life with Bruce _before_. “Brucie Wayne did, I guess. Huge parties that would be headlines for the next week or so. But Bruce didn't.”

Cass presses her leg to Jason’s. He has his eyes closed, the edges of his dark hair splayed on the green grass. “He would come home from the parties, at whatever hour, sometimes early before dawn, and woke me up. We’d sit on my bed and he’d read with me until I absolutely needed to get ready for school. Sometimes Dick joined in whenever he was in Gotham.”

Jason turns his head away.

“He misses you,” Cass decides to say. Some days Jason doesn’t need to hear the truth, but on other days like today, she can feel the need vibrating from his core. She understands. More often than not, she has unanswered questions simmering beneath her skin and jabbing inside her brain. They're quieter now, but that doesn't mean they're gone.

“Huh,” Jason says, which is an improvement over what he would have said to that a year ago. His face is still turned away from her.

She drops one of her legs on top of his and cranes her head back. She points at one of the cloud and says, “Does that look… like a giraffe to you?”

“I know what you're trying to do,” Jason drawls, but he faces her and glances at the sky above. “Yeah, I guess. That kinda looks like it.”

Cass nods. She points at another cloud.  “And the one there?”

Jason scratches his chin. “Tim's hair when he wakes up, definitely.” He gestures at a cloud with his left hand and wriggles his eyebrows, grinning. “And that one looks like poop.”

 

-

 

“This is a futile conversation,” Damian says, as he sits on the sofa with Alfred the cat curled on his stretched leg. He has wandered into the room with a sketchbook a couple of hours ago, when Steph has just started painting Cass’ toenails, and he has given up the pretense of not listening to them shortly after. “Todd and Father would not reconcile that easily. Have you forgotten the last time Grayson attempted to get them to be nice with one another?”

Tim winces and stops typing on his laptop, fingers poised on top of the keyboard. “Yeah,” he says, from where he’s hunched over a table. “I hate to agree with Damian but he’s right about this.The thing between them is too complicated - they can’t just solve it quickly.”

Damian glowers at Tim. Cass frowns.

“You’re too nice, Cass,” Steph sighs, inspecting her fingers to see if the eggplant colored nail polish on them is dry yet. She opens her mouth and Cass feeds her a slice of pepperoni pizza. Steph bites the pizza, chews, and swallows. “The both of them are not equipped to deal with emotions, and I stand by my statement that we need to get Bruce an emotion translator I found on e-Bay for his birthday.”

“Careful of what you’re saying about my Father, Brown,” Damian warns, but there’s no bite in his words and Cass knows that he’s joking. There’s a slight curling of his lips that he hides by picking Alfred up and burrowing his face in the cat’s fur.

“Bite me, Brat,” Steph replies, sticking her tongue out at Damian.

“I haven’t been around long, but I think the both of them would benefit from listening to each other,” Duke pipes up. He’s sprawled up on the floor with one of his earbuds hanging out of his ear, scrolling through his iPod. “There’s a lot of miscommunication going on between them.”

“I mean,” Tim says. He closes the lid of his laptop and spins around on his chair to face the rest of them. “Miscommunication is an understatement, but yeah, talking is definitely the starting point.”

“Oh my god,” Steph exclaims, eyes wide, leaning forward on her seat. “Do you guys remember when we had that case with the weird crazy magician?”

“You have to be more specific,” Damian comments. He starts petting Alfred and the cat purrs. “We encounter enough weird crazy magicians.”

“You know, the time when Jason started making remarks about his death, but Bruce was in one of his particularly pissy mood and they nearly burned down the old hangar?”

Duke snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “I can’t believe this family is even real, man.”

Tim groans. “Don’t remind me. I had to get a new cape because of it.”

“Well that was just a blessing in disguise, Drake,” Damian snarks. Tim gives Damian a rude gesture and the kid smirks in return.

Duke nudges Cass’ thigh with his toes. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “Bruce and Jason will be alright, eventually.”

Cass waves her hand. “If they could just -”

“Tt,” Damian agrees.

“I don’t understand why -”

“Same,” Duke admits.

“They just need to -”

“We know,” Tim replies.

“It’s not about the lack of love,” Steph says, propping her head on one hand. “That’s why it’s taking them so long to heal.”

Well, Cass thinks. That just doesn't make sense.

.

“What’s on your mind?” Dick asks during their weekly phone call. Since moving to Bludhaven, her oldest brother has promised to call her every week, and so far he hasn’t failed even once. Barbara comments that it’s surprising, considering the state of his messy personal life. But Cass can tell that Babs thinks he’s being sweet.

“Have you… eaten today?” She asks instead.

“Yeah,” Dick says. “I ate breakfast and lunch.”

“Anything other than cereal?”

Dick laughs. “Okay, that was uncalled for. But point taken - I’ll get a sandwich after my shift is over. Now what is it that you're distracting me from?”

Cass swings her legs. The rooftop she's perched on oversees the murky water of the Gotham river. “Bruce… and Jason.”

“Ah,” Dick pauses. “Do I want to ask? Did they nearly blow up another building? Wait, no - I don't need to know. I have a bet with Roy about it and I want plausible deniability.”

Cass smiles. “They're just being them. No burning buildings this time… I promise.”

Dick’s sigh of relief is audible. “That's good to hear,” he says. “What are you worried about, then?”

She watches as a ship sails underneath the main bridge. “Bruce's birthday.”

“Did Jason say if he's coming over?”

“No,” Cass mumbles.

“Give them time,” Dick says. He hesitates for a second before continuing. “Remember that time they locked themselves in Bruce's study and we tried to eavesdrop on them from outside the door?”

“We?”

“Yeah yeah,” Dick says. “Perfect sister, it was the rest of us and not you.”

“I remember,” she says.

“Well, ok,” Dick continues. “Bruce will probably kill me if I tell you this, but what the hell. He said that Jason finally told Bruce everything that's been going on ever since before his death. His mom, the time with the League of Assassins, Talia - everything. Bruce was upset and he thought that he might have mishandled it. He asked Jason to come home, but was sure that he said it wrong because Jason just got up and left.”

“Oh,” she says. She tugs on the sleeve of her shirt.

“You know that Bruce used to have this fake birthday parties?” Dick asks.

“Yes,” she says. “Jason told me.”

“He did?” Dick sounds surprised.

“Hmm.”

“What’s our emotionally constipated family going to be without you?” he says. She can hear him smile. “We’re lucky to have you here.”

Cass feels warmth spreading in her chest. She touches the middle of her chest to try catching the feeling.

“Say hi to Babs for me,” Cass says, grinning.

Dick fakes a gasp. “Now you're just being a smartass, sister.”

-

The Manor’s library is full of multiple editions of books, some seemingly more loved than others, and today Cass has decided to drape her cardigan over her shoulders, grab two copies of a book, and sneak into Bruce’s bedroom.

Bruce’s doesn’t look up from the newspaper he’s reading. “Come in, Cass,” he says, after Cass has stood staring at him from the corner of the room for a full minute. “How long?”

“A minute,” she replies, crawling on the bed to occupy the spot next to Bruce, among the giant pillows and white sheets. She pushes the spare copy of Pride and Prejudice into his hands.

Bruce hums, the corner of his lips twitching. “Better than last time.” Last time was a minute and six seconds before he realized that she was in the room.

“Still… not fast enough,” she replies, leaning back against a pillow and crossing her legs. “Can we read this?”

“Of course,” Bruce says, placing his newspaper on his bedside table and opening its drawer to grab a dictionary. The drawer closes again with a thud. They’ve been working through classical literature, partly because she tends to find more unfamiliar words that way, and Jason left her a huge pile of his favorite books when he found out what she’s doing.

Bruce cracks open his copy and Cass opens hers. They start reading, and Cass has to stop a couple of times to ask Bruce about a few words, and together they look up for their meanings in the dictionary. They get almost to the middle of the book when Cass looks up at Bruce, and decides that she’ll just say what she wants to say.

“I met Jason yesterday,” Cass says, lowering her book.

“Really?” Bruce says. “I see that he is in town.”

Sometimes Bruce is so bad at being subtle it embarrasses her.

Cass raises a skeptical eyebrow and Bruce tries again, without the pretense. “How is he?”

“Travelling with his team… is good for him,” she says.

“I’m glad,” Bruce says with a low voice.

“You should call,” she says again.

Bruce smiles wryly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cass. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Someone has to start,” she insists. “It’s your birthday.”

Bruce stares at her, assessing. “You’d really like to have him there, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you?” She bluntly dares. Anything less than the truth never works with Bruce.

“Of course,” Bruce admits, and in return her father has always showed her his truth, too.

Bruce sighs. It is agreed upon what he would do, and Cass smiles, satisfied. She picks up her book and moves to leave the room, to give him privacy, but his hand gently catches her wrist and she sits back down, watching Bruce dial a series of numbers on his phone.

“Jason,” Bruce says into his phone shortly after, and for a second there’s a flash of surprise in his voice, as if he didn’t expect Jason to pick up. “No, no one got hurt.”

A pause. “No, I don’t need you to do anything,” Bruce replies to Jason. “I heard that you’re in Gotham.”

Another pause.

“It doesn’t matter which traffic light caught you,” Bruce grunts, annoyed, but Cass can tell that he’s also amused by the question. Cass drops her head on his shoulder. “It’s my birthday on Sunday, and since you’re in town, I was wondering if you could come by the Manor for lunch.” Then, in a lower voice. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Cass listens to him breathe.

“I see. You won’t be in Gotham by then,” Bruce says. “Tell me the next time you are.”

Something cold grips her throat. She doesn’t know who hung up first. Bruce places his phone next to the newspaper.

He exhales. “It’s okay,” he tells her, when he remembers that she’s watching. He runs his fingers on the open pages of the book absentmindedly. “I have made a lot of mistakes and I didn’t try to understand him, how everything that happened… impacted him.” He pauses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying now, but sometimes I worry that I may be too late.”

“I think,” Cass says slowly. She is sad, yes, disappointed, yes, but she thinks Bruce is more - what? Sadder, yes, more disappointed, yes, but a whole lot more of other things too. Jason is the same way. “He’s trying too.”

Bruce puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Let's see what Mr. Darcy says next,” he murmurs finally. Cass looks down at her book and starts reading again, the only sound in the room is just flipping pages, until darkness creeps in and they have to get up to turn on the lamp.

 

-

The rain pours outside and Duke has opened the huge balcony doors to let the wind blow in. They've had the cake and birthday presents, and now the others are holding a chess tournament that is probably more competitive than it should be. Cass has been watching them play, but at some point she slips to the side of the room and stands in front of the open doors. She stares at the wide expanse of the garden and the closed gates.

“He’s not coming, huh?” Barbara asks, rolling her wheelchair next to Cass. She hands Cass a plate of Lasagna and a fork. Cass lowers herself on the ground and sits cross legged besides Babs.

She shakes her head and stabs her fork into Alfred’s lasagna.

“They're both too stubborn for their own good,” Barbara says, reaching out to touch Cass’ shoulder. “They've always been like that, even before.”

Cass shakes her head again.

“Okay,” Babs says. A few strands of hair escape her messy bun. “You can’t do that and not tell me what’s wrong.”

Cass shrugs and takes a bite of the lasagna. The cheese melts on her tongue.

“Cass.”

“Six years,” Cass blurts out, then she bites her lower lip because she's not sure that she wants to say it, exactly. Words are easier for her but sometimes they are still stuck on the tip of her tongue, waiting until she finds the right ones to slip out of her lips.

Barbara’s hand is warm on her shoulder. The crease between her eyebrows means she’s worried. “Six years of what?”

Cass sits and thinks.

She doesn’t think there are right words to describe the sound of Steph’s laughter, Bruce’s welcoming silence, the soft lines of Damian’s drawings, Alfred's cookies, the music thrumming out of Duke’s headphones, Tim’s yawn in the middle of afternoon, the quirk of Dick’s lips, the warmth radiating out of Babs’ computers, and the smell of Jason’s leather jacket. To describe the feeling that it has been six years since she has acquired her new family and she wants her brother to have the same thing.

But. She understands that it takes time, that her family may be cracked, broken, and sometimes even a little bit lost, but in the end they’d _live_ for each other, and that’s more than what she thought she would ever have.

She covers Barbara’s hand with hers.

“Alright,” Babs tells her, understanding. They sit there for a while, until there’s a loud crash behind them and they have to help stop Damian, face and hair covered with purple paint, from lunging at a snickering Steph.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket.

 _Sorry_ , Jason says. _I’ll see you soon_.

 _It’s ok :)_ , she replies, and means it.

 

-

She doesn’t know what wakes her up later that night. Probably it’s the rustling of the wind, or the softness of her pillow, but Cass lies awake for five minutes without success of falling asleep again, before she decides to go and bother Bruce. She slips out of her bed and navigates the dark hallways quietly, only to find a silhouette standing outside Bruce’s bedroom, back pressed against the wall.

Alfred raises a finger and presses it in front of his lips. Cass walks closer to hear voices behind Bruce’s closed bedroom door.

“How about Great Gatsby?”

“Come on, Old Man. We've read that one before. I want to read something new.”

A chuckle. “Why did you tell me to choose if you keep critiquing what I select, Jay?”

An exaggerated sigh. “Because your taste sucks, that’s why.”

Cass watches the shine of Alfred’s eyes and the yellow light spilling out from underneath the door.

“Best not to disturb them, Miss Cassandra,” Alfred whispers. “Do you fancy a cup of hot chocolate?”

She smiles and stands on her tiptoes to press her lips to Alfred’s cheek. The butler smiles back and reaches out to pet her hair. He gestures to the direction to the kitchen.Cass yawns and follows Alfred for the promised cup of hot chocolate.

On a Sunday night, her brother begins his journey home.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to practice mood writing but don't think I handled that right. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think? Find me on [tumblr](http://donnastroys.tumblr.com/) :)  
> 


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